


Inappropriate Socks

by crimtastic



Series: socks and other shenanigans [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Consent, Darcy Lewis's iPod, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female Character In Command, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12198372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimtastic/pseuds/crimtastic
Summary: Steve likes to think of himself as a fairly easygoing captain. His work at the Avengers Facility was tough, especially when he has to interject between enhanced persons. Running the facility with minimal mishaps took quite a bit of his time, but his efforts seem worth it when he’d feel the united purpose that everyone seemed to carry. While he didn't necessarily have direct authority over the Science division, he assumes a certain amount of professionalism would exist there. But that was before.Before he met Darcy Lewis.Darcy Lewis with her ridiculous, exasperating, frustrating clothing.





	Inappropriate Socks

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted to AO3 before. I haven't written fanfiction in easily 10 years. I've never written ShieldShock either, but I adore it so. I was skulking tumblr for more fun things and I saw [this prompt](http://wahwahwaffles.tumblr.com/post/165703884255/title-inappropriate-socks) on emma98's tumblr and the smutty delicious snowball caused an avalanche of words that I did not expect. I hope you enjoy!

"Hey Cap!"

The chipper voice cuts through the hallway that Steve's walking down. He glances up from the tablet he's studying to see Darcy, practically sauntering down the opposite direction, giving him a cheeky two finger salute as she passes him. She's already around a corner when he realizes his face has fallen into a frown, and tries to school it into a more neutral expression. He rushes along to his office, closing the door quickly before running his hand over his face.

_Navy blue with twinkling little stars, wrapping up and around each of her legs past her knees. The color came to a rest a few inches below her skirt, showcasing creamy thighs. The lab coat she wore was longer than the dark skirt swishing underneath. Was that a familiar little shield peeking from under her thighs as she walked away?_

His eidetic memory was sometimes a terrible thing.

Steve likes to think of himself as a fairly easygoing captain. His work at the Avengers Facility was tough, especially when he has to interject between enhanced persons. Running the facility with minimal mishaps took quite a bit of his time, but his efforts seem worth it when he’d feel the united purpose that everyone seemed to carry. While he didn't necessarily have direct authority over the Science division, he assumes a certain amount of professionalism would exist there. But that was before.

Before he met Darcy Lewis.

Darcy Lewis with her ridiculous, exasperating, frustrating clothing.

* * *

Steve had been running the facility for four months before Dr. Foster and her assistant had arrived. The amount of clearance Foster required meant that Steve was there when they drove in. Anyone working with (or towards) alien technology was personally vetted by him, no exceptions.

“Dr. Foster, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Steve kept his voice neutral. The woman who exited the van quirked an eyebrow, her slight stature slinging a backpack over her shoulder hurriedly.

“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting a welcome. Just the labs.”

Dr. Foster’s expression was almost petulant. Steve was about to respond when a voice cut in. “Janey, did you see where my iPod fell?”

Steve looked behind Dr. Foster into the van and blinked. _Ribbed black stockings, ending halfway up the back of a pair of female thighs, leading to a purple damask skirt pulled taut around a bottom he’d only seen the like on sides of fighter jets._

His attention was so drawn he didn’t hear the arrival of Dr. Selvig, or Dr. Foster’s reply. He finally regained his wits when the owner of said bottom righted herself from where she was digging under the seat with triumphant cheer, clinging to a device. He mentally shook himself for being so caught off guard, but was unable to will away the edge of pink crawling up his his neck and ears. The additional brunette woman jumped down, pulling her hair aside as she slung her own backpack on her back.

“If you will follow me, I’ll take you to your rooms,” Steve congratulated himself for successfully sounding collected. Unfortunately, it had the side effect of making him look particularly stern.

“Holy cheese balls, Jane, they sent Captain America to greet us,” Dr. Foster’s friend declared, her face splitting into a smirk. Dr. Foster’s face twisted into a frown of confusion from her conversation with Dr. Selvig.

“Well, that’s completely unnecessary. Erik can accompany us to the _labs_ , I’m sure you have much more important things to do with your time,” Dr. Foster was already grabbing Dr. Selvig’s arm and steering him towards an elevator as she breezed by. Steve turned to follow her immediately, but got caught with a hand darting out in front of him.

“Darcy Lewis, Science! wrangler extraordinaire. I’m sure you already knew that, but I feel like introductions make things go so much smoother when I liaison for the astrophysicist geniuses,” she grinned up at him. “I’d be flattered she even knows who you are, but it’s really only due to association.”

“Steve Rogers, ma’am,” he gave her hand a quick shake, trying to avoid any sort of prolonged contact. Darcy fell in step beside him as he hurried after Dr.’s Foster and Selvig.

“I don’t think so, but whatever pleases you,” was her enigmatic reply. Steve frowned.

“Pardon?”

“This is definitely Captain America. Doing your duty, vetting the newcomers, assessing damage control possibilities... yeah, you might be Steve Rogers, but not till the time card is punched out. Don’t worry, you work it very well. I doubt anyone suspects.”

Steve remained silent the rest of the way to the labs, jaw clenched to avoid speaking. His ears were still tinged pink.

* * *

“Hey Cap!”

Steve was beginning to dread those words. It always felt like a bit of a dig, but it was usually delivered with such a bemused lilt to Darcy’s voice that he really couldn’t argue with her to stop it. Asking her to stop would acknowledge that it got under his skin, and he already felt very unprepared to deal with her as it was. _Best ignore it, she’ll refrain eventually,_ was his hopeful thinking. The fact that he was absolutely terrible with women would not work in his favor here.

Unfortunately, every time she’d say those words, it would be accompanied with a whole new assault on his senses.

_Grey argyle was crawling up her legs, her knee high combat boots laced tight. Denim shorts accompanied the look, peeking just barely underneath a chunky grey sweater._

It was almost a Pavlovian response, his instant appraisal of her legs. They were always covered in a cycle of different stockings, to his chagrin. Did the woman even own slacks? Between the skirts and shorts, which always seemed paired with large sweaters, bulky scarves, her legs were always clad in _inappropriate socks_.

She worked in a lab for Pete’s sake. Surely, there was a safety concern there?

“Miss Lewis,” Steve nods stoically as he tries to exit the vicinity in an unobtrusive manner.

“Whoa there, Cap, I have a pinky sized bone to pick with you,” Darcy effectively cuts off his escape route by darting in front of him, hands on her hips. Her fingernails were lavender today, and _why was he noticing her fingernail color?_

His face settles into a grim, yet determined look. “What can I help you with, Miss Lewis?”

“I know you have a shortage of staff that you actually trust, but throwing any random person with a sneezes worth of scientific interest into astrophysics lab is a bad plan, my dude.”

Steve had recently acquired a handful of fresh wayward personnel from the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the frizzy haired female agent had been wearing a sharp pantsuit. It seemed like a good idea at the time, additional security for the lab and was properly attired to do it. If perhaps it hinted at what might constitute as better work attire, so much the better.

“I didn’t know Bolman needed science experience to oversee your work,” Steve replies, his voice clipped.

“Experience! She’s in the medical ward, apparently ‘do not touch’ is not a prerequisite instinct that baby agents learn,” Darcy huffs in frustration, waving off Steve’s concerned look.

“Don’t worry, it was only a mild electric shock, but the point remains. You cannot assign us a random gun slinging monkey, they’re far too inexperienced about what constitutes as appropriate lab behavior. Honestly, you shouldn’t even bother, just give me the list of potentials and I’ll hire whoever we need.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow, a little bit rankled by her assumption that she would be the determining factor of the lab personnel, let alone security. Surely that was his and Dr. Foster’s domain?

“I appreciate the feedback, ma’am, but this is likely an isolated incident. I’m sure she’ll avoid electrical currents in the future. What did Dr. Foster think?”

Darcy snorts. Steve’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Jane didn’t even notice. She’s far too engrossed in her energy readings to mind a person twitching on the floor in the background. Thank Thor I had only stepped out to snag a quick coffee. Bolman was still twitching when I arrived. Who knows what would have happened to her if I’d made a sandwich or something,” she replies. “Just make sure there’s a giant red flag disclaimer if you _must_ foist someone on us without my input. Do. Not. Touch.”

She punctuates the last three words with a prod to his chest, eyes glinting dangerously behind her glasses, before turning on her heel and exiting. Steve feels his breath rush out of him suddenly, unaware that he’d been holding it.

* * *

“What’s up with you and Lewis?”

Sam Wilson was usually known for his subtlety, but apparently this discussion didn’t require such a benefit. He drops down into a seat near Steve who was brooding into his coffee cup. Steve had spent breakfast steadfastly ignoring her presence on the other side of the cafeteria, hoping that his presence would go unnoticed. He had hightailed it to the lounge as soon as he’d inhaled his meal to get his coffee.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve replies. “She’s a self declared Science! wrangler. I don’t really have much interaction with her to have something ‘up’.”

“Don’t know, huh? Then why is it the moment she appears, you tense up like a wet cat? Any time there’s a high level experiment, sure, you show up, in all your Captain glory, but you skulk on the outskirts. Anything science related, and you’re suddenly a lot harder to pin down. It took me a while to figure out it was Lewis, to be honest. It wasn’t until Tony pointed it out that I connected it,” Sam takes a sip of his drink, before chortling, “When Tony notices, who is rarely here to see anything, you’re in trouble.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly aware of how open the lounge was for private discussions. He grabs his coffee cup and walks it to the trash, hoping that he could possibly weasel out of this conversation fairly naturally.

“There’s nothing ‘up’ with me and Lewis. She’s just…” Steve trails off, uncertain what exactly he could say that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

“Just…?” Sam prompts, a slow bloom of a grin appearing on his face. Steve starts to back out of the room, trying to aim for nonchalance.

“I just didn’t expect her to be the one calling the shots. I assumed Dr. Foster would be handling her lab, but she seems content to give Miss Lewis free reign over everything, and I’m just not confident in Lewis’ methods,” he’s stepping backwards, almost out of the door.

Sam wasn’t about to take that answer, though, since he was getting up to follow along. Hastily, Steve turns to exit and bumps into someone. He blindly grabs ahold of a bare female arm, instincts always primed, helping the woman from tumbling towards the ground on her high heels.

 _Oh, for Pete’s sake,_ was the only thought that registers before his tongue goes suddenly dry.

_Peering straight down, his gaze was accosted with the vision of a navy blue dress practically painted on it was so form fitted. Her top was modestly covered in soft looking cotton and her arms bare due to the slight warming of the weather. The material swells out from her hips in a fashion reminiscent to more of his era than hers. Of course, there were stockings, but were practically tame for her, being a shimmering nude, her heels a matte black._

“Cap…” Darcy gasps out, looking rather startled. Her arm was still caught in his grasp, and a furrow of forming on her brow. Sam coughs from behind Steve. Steve realizes his hand is still holding her arm and abruptly lets go of her.

“Miss Lewis… my apologies,” he grunts before trying to sidestep around her. A tactical retreat was in order if he ever saw one.

“For bumping into me or the trash talking, I wonder?” her tone bites out at his back, causing Steve to stop and turn to glance at her sharply. Darcy’s eyes are hard as she adjusts her glasses, and he suddenly feels a bit out of his depths. Sam leans against the door frame, suddenly forgotten by the pair, wearing an expression of amused interest.

“What exactly about my _methods_ do you find so deplorable?” Darcy demands, hands burrowing into the expanse of material of her skirt, arms tense. Steve has a brief moment to wonder if perhaps she is hiding a fist in the cotton skirt.

“This isn’t the time, Miss Lewis,” Steve gives Sam a disapproving look, who rolls his eyes and kicks off from the doorframe to walk away. Darcy looks unconvinced.

“Well, apparently, it is the time if you’re going to blather about your disappointment all over the _public lounge_. I don’t know who pissed in your Cheerios today, Cap, but fuck if I have to deal with it right now.” She spins on her heel and starts to stride down the hall, presumably back from where she came.

Steve could see the _black back seams of her stockings running up her legs_ as she turns and his brain promptly shuts down any logical thought.

“I’ll be glad to discuss it with you in my office at 1800 hours!” he yells down the hall. She makes a rude gesture with her hand, her hair and skirt swaying with her agitated gait down the hall before disappearing around a corner.

“Congratulations, Steve,” breathes Sam who appears next to him out of seemingly nowhere.

“For what?” Steve grumbles, rubbing a hand through his hair agitatedly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lewis so furious. And she deals with cranky scientists every day.”

Steve groans in dismay. Darcy Lewis was going to be the death of him.

* * *

Later, Steve finds himself in his office, looking over Darcy’s file with a little more interest than the cursory glance he afforded it when he saw her transfer request to the facility.

Reading over the events in New Mexico and London, springing Dr. Selvig from asylum and her general mothering attitude towards the scientists, he realizes he probably insulted her in the worst possible way. She had unorthodox methods to keep people on task, but considering the progress gained, it was hard to argue with it. _Only probably insulted_ , he snorts to himself, suddenly a bit ashamed of the excuse he contrived for Sam’s sake. His own sake? Suddenly, he’s not so sure.

The telltale sound of the doorknob turning interrupts his musings. Darcy stomps in, closing the door with a decisive snap and indignantly approaches his desk. She tosses a StarkPad on his desk, throwing her hands on her hips.

“Itineraries, budgets, breakthroughs, formulas, even the _pop-tart breaks_ and _naps_ are there. Please, All Knowing One, how am I _supposed_ to be doing my job?” she growls the words, challenge etched into her entire stance.

Pursing his lips, Steve struggles to resist the challenge. Call it a character flaw, but he wouldn’t have survived as a child if he hadn’t fought. So he rises from his seat and walks around his desk. Picking up the StarkPad disinterestedly from behind her, he fiddles with a few screens, face impassive. 

“Look, Miss Lewis, reviewing your work in more detail, I’ve come to the conclusion that it has been entirely acceptable as per the numbers. It’s just that your _presence_ leaves much to be desired,” Steve rolls the words off his tongue. He steps closer to her, reaching around her to drop the StarkPad back down on his desk.

“My presence?” Darcy’s tone is incredulous. “I’ve been nothing but cordial towards everyone, even the dratted security whose job is simply to get in our way in the labs. Even you, _Cap_.”

She looks so flummoxed by his pronouncement that she sits on the edge of his desk and folds her arms, stance digging in for a fight. At her derisive tone of his nickname, he instantly glances down at her legs, captivated by how the sheer stockings make her legs look so _soft_ and her skirt parts on the side just enough…

_Fuck._

“Miss Lewis, you’re fired.”

Darcy blinks in confusion. There’s a blessed moment of silence as she visibly works on how the conversation went from her work performance to his statement. Steve feels that his entire face and neck is aflame with how red he is, trying desperately to avert his attention from her legs. He is failing miserably. 

_Little clips belt onto the lacy edges of her nude stockings, black satin straps disappearing up underneath her skirt._

“Whatever for?” Darcy arches an eyebrow, and he bursts out without thinking.

“ _Inappropriate socks!_ ”

There’s another beat of silence.

“Excuse me?” She finally breaks the silence. Her eyebrows raise in shock, amusement uncoiling in her expression, but anger is still dancing in her eyes behind her glasses.

“You… your attire is just not workplace professional. It’s… distracting. Dangerous,” Steve finally breaks hold of his staring contest with her _garter strap like a fucking chump_ to rub his neck nervously. Suddenly, he has to look at anything else but Darcy.

This meeting has gone very differently from what he intended. Darcy looks positively pensive now while she considers Steve, and he’s shuffling from foot to foot like a naughty child, avoiding eye contact.

“So, you’re telling me despite an exemplary work ethic, good attitude, _fantastic_ ability to keep explosions from happening, is irrelevant because of my… socks.”

Darcy’s expression, while amused, has a reckless hint to it.

“And your solution is to simply be rid of me? That I will just pack my bags, kiss Janey and Erik on the cheek and say ‘thanks for all the fish’?” her voice drops to a dangerously low tone. “Want to know a secret?”

Steve feels the coil of heat that’s been steadily building at the bottom of his stomach jump up to his throat when his eyes finally lock with Darcy’s. She pushes off the desk to lean up on her tiptoes. For one mad moment, Steve wonders if this entire episode is a perverse dream, like the ones plaguing him for months that he pretends he doesn’t have. Her fingers rest just slightly on his shoulders as she pulls herself up, heat seeping through his shirt, and her breath brushes the shell of his ear.

“You’re not the boss of me, _Steve_.”

With a groan, he slides his hand up her neck and captures her lips with his own. Darcy meets him in kind, fisting her hands in his shirt to yank him closer. He finds his other arm is twisting around her form immediately to violently jerk her forward towards his body. She runs her tongue against the seam of his lips which causes another startled groan to escape him, which she takes ample advantage of. 

Her hands trail away from his shirt, one darting up to the back of his neck to tug on his hair, while the other fiddles with undoing the buttons on his collar. With her form pressed into his, Steve’s suddenly acutely aware of just how voluptuous her body is, and he needs more. He presses her bodily back towards his desk, his arms shooting out behind her to knock things off his desk. Darcy’s legs cage his hips as her ass hits the cool metal of his desktop, and his groin surges in response to the proximity to her core. Bringing his left arm to encircle her form and keep her pressed against him, he skims his right hand from her stocking clad kneecap slowly up her thighs.

Darcy finally pulls away from his lips with a gasp, throwing her head back, giving him opportunity to feather kisses down her chin, her jaw, her neck. His fingertips burn with the circles he’s trailing into the soft bit of thigh he’s found bare of any material.

“Steve…” Darcy is breathing heavily, voice dark and low. Steve gives a short questioning grunt into her neck in response.

“Not that… kind of woman… mister…” her voice hitches as Steve brushes his fingers over the satin strap, approaching the heat that he can feel through his pants. He begins to lick and nibble on a choice spot of her neck where it meets her collarbone, not at all deterred by the modest neckline. She stiffens in his arms and he can feel her hair tickle his forehead as she struggles to clear her throat.

“Steve. Down.” Darcy’s voice cuts through the haze in his brain, the sultry voice edged with a command that shoots straight to his cock. Steve manages to bite back a moan, but pulls away at her request.

Darcy looks like a queen, perched on his desk, glasses and hair askew with her skirts tousled up by her hips. A dark imprint is on her neck, her heeled feet are dangling at the ground as she’s spread for him. He can see her plum colored panties that are encased by a garter belt. Her pupils are blown wide and she looks properly disheveled. Steve is hit with a primitive pride that he put her in such a position.

“Down, Steve. _Down_.”

Darcy hooks a heeled foot on his hip, motioning him down towards the floor. Steve closes his eyes and suddenly grits his teeth for control as his cock jumps in anticipation at just exactly what she’s commanding. The ground is cold on his knees and it gives him the slight reprieve to gather the rest of wits to keep from spilling in his pants right there. Opening his eyes to her expression of utter command, eyebrow arched in challenge, he mutters under his breath.

“ _Fuck, Darcy_.”

Steve lunges lower, nuzzling the delicate bone of her right ankle with his nose, pressing a kiss there. He continues up her right calf, placing a kiss on the side of her knee. He drags his middle finger up her left calf, feeling the back seam of her stocking. While he kisses at her right inner thigh where the lacey stocking ends, Steve’s hand skates against the outside of her left thigh before wrapping around to her rear. He abruptly tugs forward while dipping a bit to feel her leg settle over his shoulder, her heel digging into his back. Darcy’s teetering on the edge of the desk, right foot slipped out of her heel, toes trying to gain purchase on his hip. 

“Steve…” Darcy gasps, hands fisting on the top of his shirt. She looks gloriously exposed in this position which causes Steve to chuckle darkly. His senses are overloaded with her sounds, her feel, her glorious scent. The wet heat that’s revealed to him is going to his head, and his cock is screaming for relief in his trousers. Nevertheless, he dips his hand over her thigh and brushes against her panties, his breath blowing against her folds as he pulls her undergarment aside.

“ _Now_ , Steve.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow at her expression, which is a mixture of full blown lust and frustration.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He darts forward, dragging his tongue against her wet slit, mapping the territory slowly. Darcy lets out a hiss and he can feel her back arch under his hand as she throws her head back. The motion causes her hips to buck closer to his lips and he nestles his tongue in her folds, nose nuzzling up and around the nub that causes her to whimper. 

Steve feels a sudden surge of gratitude that he can hold his breath for an unnaturally long time due to the serum. The soft mews emitting from Darcy's throat encourage his already emboldened exploration and he begins to trace her folds with a fingertip as his tongue thrusts into her.

“Steve…” she begins to pant, “you’ve imagined this all before, haven’t you? Yesss, your brooding glares and tight ass attitude, just masking all your naughty little thoughts. I’ve never been to your office before, but you’ve imagined it, thought of me just like this, perched on your desk for your pleasure.”

Steve gives her a clit a soft suckle in response, causing a keening wail to escape Darcy.

“Fuck, Steve, yes,” she gasps for breath, “poor Cap, thinking you can intimidate me into your ridiculous orders, _firing me_ … Ohhhh, no, you can’t fire me Cap, I’m here, open to you, and you can’t get enough. Your stiff expression when I try to coax Steve out, _Steve_ can’t keep his thoughts hidden from me, and you’ve thought far too much about indulging in my pretty little cunt.”

Steve presses a single digit into her cunt, his tongue playing a gentle chase and release game with her clit, and she bucks, moan low in her throat.

“You’re going to make me come, Steve, that’s an order. And then I’m going to sit here all pretty and satisfied on your desk and watch you. Watch you touch _only_ yourself. Watch you unbuckle your pants and grab that aching cock out. Watch you stroke yourself to completion all over the floor at my _inappropriately socked feet_.”

Steve mumbles into her clit, “yes ma’am” on his tongue, vibration pairing perfectly with the second digit he presses into her. His fingers twisting to seek out the nestled bundle of nerves inside of her. He grazes her nub with his teeth and her leg tightens in response.

“Ohhhh, yesss, Steve, right there…”

Darcy doesn’t last much longer, eyes shutting as her body coils tighter and tighter around his head and shoulders before finally releasing in a quiet cry. Steve feels her walls clench around his fingers, his cock aching in tandem at the spasming he can feel on his hand and lips. 

After a long moment, she slowly uncoils herself from his shoulder and sets her butt back more firmly on his desk. Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes and looks straight down at him with her glasses on the edge of her nose. An eyebrow begins to arch, an unspoken well?

Steve’s hands are shaking, his thoughts in a complete disarray at what a pretty picture her release is, and he fumbles with his belt. Carefully drawing his pants open, he hisses at how overly sensitive his cock is, gently wrapping a hand around the prominent member.

“ _Stroke_ , Steve,” Darcy’s voice is quiet but no less commanding, “ _Stroke_.”

Steve strokes his cock in tandem with her continued dictation, staring fiercely at her impish expression while she rubs her hands up and down her thighs at the same pace. He darts his tongue out on his lips in concentration and tastes the remnants of her pleasure, eyes slamming shut. He can hear her movements removing herself off of the desk, a bit of a fumble as she slides her foot back into her heel, but her voice is constant. 

“ _Stroke_.”

He doesn’t dare disobey, and Darcy crowds into his space with the click of her heels, stepping over his kneeling form, surrounding him with her legs. Steve reaches up a hand to try and touch those delicious garters again, but she flicks his hand away. 

“Do. Not. Touch.” 

Darcy is towering over him, her commanding presence enveloping him. He has to rely on his memory for how soft her thighs were, how those garters contrasted against her pale skin. She leans down to breathe into his ear, low and sultry.

“ _Come_ , Steve.”

Her body displayed before him flashes through his mind, her mewls of release, mixed with the dark bidding of her voice at his ear causes a yell to escape him. Steve cries out as stream after stream of his release spills out between her stocking clad legs. 

A few moments of quiet passes in the room as he works on slowing his breathing. Steve timidly looks up at Darcy, who straightens up and looks down at him impassively.

Steve feels guilt starting to crawl up the back of his spine, when Darcy takes his chin and plants a soft peck on his lips. 

“Maybe instead of trying to fire me, you should take me to dinner to apologize.”

Steve’s face splits into an eager grin.

“Yes ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned up formatting and some small mistakes 08-28-18. <3


End file.
